


Chopin: Prelude in E minor, Op. 28 No. 4

by crookedspoon



Series: as remote as the stars [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Community: 1-million-words, Community: fic_promptly, F/M, M/M, Tumblr: letswritesherlock, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:02:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of life-changing nights he can't remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I renounce predictions and aspirins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wallwalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallwalker/gifts), [oneill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneill/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up without a memory of the preceding night is rather atypical for Mycroft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the LWS Challenge 15 "Trapped." Also fills "[Waking up the morning after a night you can't remember.](http://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/53500.html?thread=2288636#cmt2288636)" from fic-promptly and Sep 23, 2014 "Why me?" from [31-days](http://31-days.dreamwidth.org/7660.html#cutid1).

The first chirrup before the break of dawn disturbs Mycroft's already fitful slumber. His mind, dampened by the bodily sensations nausea, heartburn and migraines, remains reluctant to resurface. 

So, this must be a hangover.

The preceding night must have seen excessive amounts of alcohol into his bloodstream. It's unlike him to miscalculate or indeed, to lose track of what he consumes. He may be under enough pressure to forget certain... episodes of the recent past that even Sherlock has been downgraded to The Least of His Worries, but that's precisely why he needs all his faculties more than ever.

Blindly reaching for the bottle of aspirin on his night-table, he goes over his mental day-planner. Mummy's birthday is soon, which adds the hassle of procuring a gift. He'll go with last year's choice, for the lack of options: theatre tokens. Suitable enough.

Instead of an aspirin bottle, Mycroft's hand meets with a smooth wall that should, under normal circumstances, not be there. Puzzled, he sits upright. The mystery of a misplaced bedroom provides momentary relief from the nauseating stabbing at his skull.

His mind takes stock: this is not his bedroom. He's naked. A woman – his professed girlfriend – is lying next to him, also naked. He has never checked whether she's on birth control.

Already, his day couldn't get any better.


	2. I resign the future along with safe returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria wakes to heavy memories and the smell of pancakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LWS, Challenge #15 (bingo card #3) "Fake Relationship." Also fills " [Any, Any, the pills won't help you now.](http://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/139391.html?thread=6491775#cmt6491775)" from fic-promptly and P for prelude at [1-million-words](http://1-million-words.livejournal.com/845482.html).

Victoria wakes to a sense of loss that has little to do with her frightfully empty bed. In her vague recollection Mycroft stayed the night, helping her digest the news of her brother over heavy drinks. He's a good friend, despite his pretensions. He may have considered her a mere stepping stone towards her brother, but still he cared for the outward maintenance of their relationship. It was sweet, in a way, because their make-believe obfuscated his connection with Daniel and removed him from the line of fire; Mycroft knew the pressure of finding a suitable wife he was under. Their parents wouldn't understand.

He's never spelled any of this out, but she could tell.

The tightening in her chest cautions her to abandon this train of thought unless choking up again is her objective. Deciding to leave the gloom for now, she follows the aroma of baking goods into the kitchen, where Mycroft skillfully operates a sizzling frying pan. The man has a sweet tooth; of course pancakes would be among his repertoire.

She winds her arms around his waist and hooks her chin over his shoulder.

"Are those morning after pills I spy on the counter?" 

Mycroft stiffens. Victoria laughs; it feels good. 

"You proposed to me last night; there's no need to scramble any contraceptives into the batter."

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles taken from Margaret Atwood's poem "Is/Not."
> 
> For updates, fic snippets, or to poke me about progress, you can now also find me on my [fic tumblr](http://crookedspoonfic.tumblr.com/).


End file.
